as you see, I had to cut the potential marathon entry session short because it was time to go to work... sad, ain't it?... well, maybe it's for the best since my two regular readers seem to be on vacation and the rest of you are probably bored with my self-serving rambling and don't see the words as the clever wisdom and literary gems that I'd like to think they are (can my ego get delusional or what, aye?)...

no, real literary genius belongs to the likes of leroy and her buds out at the 12% Beer (seems the mundane details of a daily life and personal opinion that make up a diary get a whole lot more interesting and the writing itself seems to get a whole lot better when it's part of a clique or prestigious group site... but then, being an outsider I wouldn't know... everything is funnier with friends... but then, how do we explain Uncle what's-his-name?...

maybe the saddest thing is not selling your soul for attention and popularity... maybe it's a lot sadder to sell your soul for attention and popularity and still not get it... oh the humanity)... I sometimes wonder when I look at it... would it be funnier if the grown ups were writing it?...

wait, is my pathetic appeal to get noticed working yet?...

wait, I'll keep trying...

ok, so throngs of obsessed fans are not gushing all over me (and I went a bought all these extra kleenex too)... maybe I should take more surveys (I could swear I did, really)... or maybe I should create some (but what if I create a survey and nobody takes it?... I'm still waiting for people to show up at my party, after all)...

not working, huh?...

well, begging seldom does... and behind the candoor I do it mostly to laugh at myself for being lost in pathetic loneliness for so long... it's much better (for me) than moping or mounring or whining or crying or sinking into the deepest bowels of abject depression, ya know?...

I mean, there's way more than enough out there to get depressed about, just look at the news... won't get screwed again?...

meanwhile, now that we've suddenly slipped abstract distraction into the mix, I thought this was a mockery of aristocratic attitude, but when there was no position available for an ex-MP sex offender, I realize that it must be serious so we should all be duly offended... even the obese...

oh, and I am not logophobic, really...

around here, Precious is out at a Josh Groban concert, waving signs extolling her love for the singer and tossing little bottles of shampoo on to the stage if she gets a chance... she's watched the videos of his interviews and concerts a few dozen times, at least, and knows just about everything that's ever been said or printed or filmed about him... I wonder if she'll get any sleep tonight at all when she finally gets home... ah, to be young and have unprecedented fun on a school night, dontcha miss high school?...

meanwhile, Raspy is watching reruns of Friends again in between eating and coming and going from his room... eventually I remembered that 24 is on tonight and switched over for the last fifteen minutes of that since Precious will be grilling me on what happened... and that's the few hours between sleep and work here are the casa de candoor...

in case you came from the previous entry and expected the pattern to continue, I started a fourth entry in the series of entries that the last three are the first three of (and if that makes sense to you, I look at your mind and simply say... wow) and may even get back to the impromptu series of entries that started without any plan to make any sort of series of entries except that my gigawatt friend inspires me so much when I have the time to let her...

until then, you'll just have to put up with the uninspired ramblings of a distracted mind (or you could stay here)...

was that a joke?...

it's almost time for work and I have preparations to get to... I am comfortably enjoying the aftermath of a steamy hot shower (except that the water flow in my shower seems to be at a rate that empties the water heater before I am feeling completely extravagant... better than Rasputin's, I suppose, since he's complaining about low water pressure... maybe he has the flow control thing going on in his shower head... anyway, I feel all squeaky clean and conditioned and ready to curl up with someone I love and cuddle and...

I'll just get ready for work now...

. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
(just let me know you were here)